


the secret is i'm always calm

by fondghost



Series: questions about peter parker [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Humor, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Worried Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23107177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fondghost/pseuds/fondghost
Summary: He’s strangely very calm when he’s hurt. Tony almost has a heart attack every time he comes in with a bullet wound or a piece of glass sticking out of his side, but Peter is never stressed.(he doesn’t say this aloud, but he knows Tony will fix him up always. A childish thought, maybe, but it’s always been true).
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: questions about peter parker [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1055147
Comments: 9
Kudos: 208





	the secret is i'm always calm

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in feb of 2019 but then got busy with my final semester of uni and couldn't edit it, and then Endgame happened and I...... wanted Death rip but it's finished so might as well post it!  
> don't need to have read the other two in the series, they're largely unrelated—all you need to know is Peter is in therapy, that's what the first part is about!
> 
> Enjoy!

_“Alright, Peter, Mr. Stark seemed very concerned about this, and I—”_

_“Oh, come on.”_

_“...what?”_

_“Is it the glass thing?”_

_“Yes. It’s definitely the glass thing.”_

_“What was I supposed to do then, doc?”_

_“I don’t know, maybe called 911.”_

_“Why would I do that?”_

_“Peter. You had a large - very large - piece of glass sticking out of your side.”_

_“I mean. When you put it_ that _way…”_

_“No, it should be as serious no matter how I put it.”_

\----

“Karen, call Mr. Stark, please.”

“Right away, Peter.”

Okay. Well, at the very least, those creeps were in jail now, and that girl is definitely safe. Mr. Stark was going to be so proud. 

He might be less proud about the bullet wound, but...Peter couldn’t really do anything about that now.

He sighed once the call went through, and Mr. Stark’s voice reached his ears. “What’s up, kid?”

“Hey, Mr. Stark… how’re things going?” Oh make it more obvious, Peter, why don’t you.

There was a pause before Mr. Stark’s now-cautious voice answered. “You saw me a few hours ago. Nothing’s really happened since then….Peter, what’s wrong?”

There we go. Peter sighed once again, “Well. Nothing’s _wrong_ exactly, Mr. Stark--”

“Cut the crap, kid.”

He really wouldn’t be doing this normally, he’d just go home and wait for his body to heal itself. But, because the universe loved to annoy him, he couldn’t get the bullet out, and he’s not _that_ stupid; he knows he can’t just leave a bullet in his body. Well, he _would_ , but not after the weird side-effects last time… So, he had to call Mr. Stark.

He should also probably not mention how dizzy he is. Also shouldn’t be swinging his way to Stark tower, but, well.. 

“Okay, I might have gotten shot.”

“....” there was complete silence on the other end, and Peter would think the call’s disconnected if he couldn’t see that it clearly wasn’t. “Peter. What the fuck.”

“It’s not a big deal, Mr. Stark! I'm completely fine! Except…”

“Oh dear god, except what?”

Stark tower came into view, and Peter sighed - his side really hurt. “Except I couldn’t get the bullet out and--”

“ _I swear to god, Peter Parker,_ ” Mr. Stark yelled, making Peter grimace, “if you _dare_ let yourself heal with a fucking _bullet_ in your body, I will make you wish you weren’t born.”

Landing - very ungracefully - on the balcony of Mr. Stark’s floor, Peter inwardly cheered at not passing out. “I'm not stupid--”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He made his way to the workshop where he could hear Mr. Stark was. “As I was saying, I'm not stupid enough to leave a bullet in my body, Mr. Stark, come on, have a little faith.”

Mr. Stark scoffed. “Right, and where the hell are you right now?”

“I am…” he waited a moment until the elevator doors opened. “At your workshop.”

Mr. Stark hung up the second he saw him, and rushed over. “Jesus, kid, you look like a mess.”

“Pft thanks…”

He was pushed onto the couch. And then Mr. Stark started fussing; he snapped his fingers, pointing at Peter’s mask - to which Peter sighed and took off, already dreading what was going to follow.

“ _Peter.”_

“I promise it’s not as bad as it---”

Mr. Stark shook his head sharply, cutting Peter off. Gentle fingers prodded Peter’s (really badly) bruised face. “Holy shit, kid, what did you do?” 

Peter, upon remembering what had caused this, frowned. “They were really bad guys, Mr. Stark, I couldn’t just…”

“You could’ve called me.”

“Yes, I could’ve - and I wanted to, but… it just felt…” words weren’t coming, and Peter’s hands curled into tight fists.

Mr. Stark tapped him on the shoulder - and it’s really pathetic how well this works every time. “What did it feel like?”

He swallowed before answering - choosing not to give all the gory details. “It’s like I saw red, and I felt like I couldn’t wait a second. And, Mr. Stark, they were… a second was too long, and I _needed_ to do something right then and there.” once he started going, Peter couldn’t stop. “And there were so many of them, Mr. Stark, it wasn’t even a fair fight. But even if it was one against her, she was so small, Mr. Stark, she didn’t look like she could’ve defended herself - and I'm not saying that because she’s a girl, I promise, she was crying and curled into herself - she wasn’t even calling for help. And they were laughing, and _it wasn’t fair,_ and I just.. _Had to_ do something, they were gonna hurt her and--”

“Hey, hey you’re okay.” Mr. Stark’s hands were a solid weight on his trembling shoulders. “But you helped her, didn’t you?”

Peter nodded shakily.

Mr. Stark nodded, proud smile on his face. “And she didn’t get hurt.”

He sounded so sure, that Peter calmed down. “No, she didn’t. Not physically anyway.”

“See? Everything’s good. Except for you. You, my boy, look like you should not be walking around---” Mr. Stark’s eyes widened, “dear god, please tell me you didn’t… _swing_ over here.”

He said the word like it was a curse word, and Peter swallowed back a laugh. “Of course, I did. How else was I gonna get here?”

Before Mr. Stark could comment - and it wasn’t going to be pretty by the look on his face - FRIDAY spoke up. “I recommend you take out the bullet, boss, he seems to be healing.”

At that, Mr. Stark sprung up and got the superhero first aid kit (which is really just a regular first aid kit that Harley had stuck a bunch of avengers stickers on). They were quiet while he worked - not that Mr. Stark didn’t obviously want to say something, but Peter leaned back and closed his eyes, still shaking, so Mr. Stark gave him a break.

It hurt - of course it did - but it was over quickly, and Peter tumbled sideways onto the couch. “I know you wanna lecture me, Mr. Stark,” his words slurred slightly but he fought on, “but can we save it for tomorrow?”

Mr. Stark sighed but acquiesced. “Sure thing, kid, you just rest.” 

Peter was half-way to sleep when he felt a blanket cover him. 

He was two steps into dreamland when Mr. Stark spoke, so the words didn’t really register. 

_“FRIDAY, show me footage of what happened.”_

\----

He’d learned his lesson, so the next time Peter needed medical assistance, he didn’t call ahead.

“Karen, is Mr. Stark at home?”

“A moment, Peter.” 

Peter lost his breath for a second when his movement caused his side to flare up in even more pain.

“Yes, Peter, Mr. Stark is at his home.”

Peter nodded. That was where he was heading anyway, but it’s nice to have confirmation.

He spent the whole way there playing and replaying what’s about to happen. He wanted to just go home - he knew a long lecture was in his near future. He didn’t even have a good reason this time - he was just an idiot.

Stark tower was in full view, and Peter groaned. “Karen, I'm about to die, so I wanted to let you know I appreciate you, and you’ve been awesome.”

“I doubt you want to go out this way, Peter. Today’s injury was caused by a rather...unfortunate circumstance.”

Gasping at the pain landing on the balcony caused, Peter readied himself, absentmindedly replying to his AI, “You can say ‘stupid’, Karen, it’s okay.”

“Either way, good luck, Peter.”

“Thanks…” he took off the mask - glad at least his injury was in one place, and his face didn’t look like a dark painting.

The elevator moved down, and with it, Peter’s heart moved to his stomach. “Tell me, FRIDAY, how’s Mr. Stark’s mood today?”

“He finalized two projects Ms Potts has been requesting for months, so he’s been in a good mood.”

He huffed, the answer not really helping. “I guess that good mood is about to change…”

The elevator doors opened. He walked into the lab. Dread filling him with every step. Mr. Stark was gonna kill him…

“Hey, Mr. Stark.”

_Yup, there it is._

Mr. Stark turned around with a smile that vanished so quickly Peter was impressed. 

“What the fuck is that.”

Peter followed Mr. Stark’s eyes and glanced down. “Um. It’s a piece of glass?”

A number of emotions passed into Mr. Stark’s face - namely disgust and then worry. “Peter. Why is there a piece of glass sticking out of your side.”

Peter, tired from standing, carefully plopped down on the couch. “Does it matter, Mr. Stark? It’s there and I don’t wanna pull it out - well, actually I was going to, but Karen insisted I have someone else do it just in case it needs stitches or something. Not that I can’t stitch it myself if it needed it - but she insisted and I owed her so I--”

“This is the part where you zip it.” Mr. Stark’s wide eyes started to have a wild tinge to them. “Peter, what the fuck? You were gonna pull that big ass piece of glass _out of you side_ yourself?”

Peter leaned his head on the back of the couch and groaned. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, pull it out and then we can pretend this didn’t happen?”

“No. That is not even close to being a thing that might happen right now, kid.” Mr. Stark sat in front of him with gloves on, and the first aid kit on the couch next to them. “You should really start worrying about my health, Peter, seriously you’re gonna give me a heart attack…”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark just ignored him - or was too impassioned to really hear him. “Walking into the lab casually, like you don’t have a piece of glass just chilling half in your body… - FRIDAY, scan him; did _the piece of glass_ hit anything? - seriously, I have heart problems, kid, you know that, right? Pepper and I just got married, kid, you can’t kill me. I'm afraid of even asking how this happe-- oh my god, I just realized you really were gonna be stupid and pull this out yourself. And _oh my god_ , did you swing over here? _With a piece of glass in you?_ Peter, please, no, don’t do this. I did not raise you to be this stupid!”

“It’s a clean break, boss, you’re safe to pull the glass out.” FRIDAY sounded amused. 

Peter bit back a smile. “I'm sorry, Mr. Stark.”

Again, he was ignored. “Great, thank god for small mercies, I guess.. And now I have to pull this out of my kid’s side.... No, this is totally fine. I can do this. _For fuck’s sake, Peter_ , what do I have to do to make you see how not okay this is?”

Peter dropped his head down, unable to hide his smile at the words ‘my kid’. “I'm sorry, Mr. Stark.”

“Great… he’s sorry, he says…” Mr. Stark mumbled, then frowned. “I'm gonna pull it out now, Pete, it’s probably gonna hurt, I'm sorry…”

Shaking his head, Peter gently tapped Mr. Stark’s gloved hand. “It’ll be quick.”

“Alright.” Mr. Stark took a deep breath. “1...2...3!” 

Peter gasped at the pain, but, like he’d said, it was short lived. 

Mr. Stark mumbled while he moved around, cleaning the place, and throwing the trash out. And Peter closed his eyes and tried not to laugh - he doubted that would be taken well.

After a moment, he realized it was quiet - the mumbling had stopped. 

Peter opened his eyes, frowning, and looked up, a question on his tongue. A question that died when he saw the picture in front of him. Mr. Stark, standing over the trash, fist shaking by his side, glass in his other. The look on his face… was one Peter would rather die than see again. And the fact he’d put it there made him want to throw himself off the building.

He watched as Mr. Stark shook himself, wiped the look off his face, and threw the glass in the trash. 

“Okay, kid, here’s what we’re _not_ going to be doing.” Mr. Stark turned to him, and Peter pretended he wasn’t about to cry. “We’re _not_ going to get glass stuck in-- wait, _how_ did this happen?”

“Ummmm”

“Oh god.” Mr. Stark put his head in his hands and whimpered. “No. I don’t need to know.”

“Probably a smart idea.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, kid…”

\----

“Peter, I know you don’t want to hear this, but--”

“No, Karen, please, don’t.” Peter groaned, letting himself fall backwards to lie back on the solid roof he was sitting on. 

“Peter. You’re going to have to do this.” Karen sounded reprimanding _and_ amused - Peter was not appreciative.

He sighed, “Fine, but I hope you’re willing to handle the guilt after I die.”

Again, sounding amused, Karen replied, “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“Do it, Karen. End my life.” He closed his eyes.

“Calling Tony Stark.”

Oh, god. Peter was going to die. Cause of death: lectured to death by Tony E. Stark. Well, there were probably worse ways to go…

“Hey, Pete. What’s up, kid?”

Peter whimpered - he _really_ dreaded this. “Heyyy, Mr. Stark! I know it’s late, did I wake you?”

Mr. Stark laughed like Peter had made a joke - which, might not be that far off; Mr. Stark and sleep were not a friendly pair. “Nah, I’m awake. What did you need?”

_I broke both my legs…_

_Hey, random question; how do you set broken legs? Haha no reason for asking!_

_Totally destroyed some bad guys, Mr. Stark! But they sorta destroyed my legs lol_

He sighed. “Can you send someone to pick me up?”

If sleep and Mr. Stark were a bad combo, then silence and Mr. Stark were catastrophic. 

“Why?”

Peter winced - he didn’t want to explain. “I can’t really swing over, and I kinda need to see you?”

“You asking me, kid?”

“No. I definitely need to see you.” he knocked his head into the ground. “I really can’t exactly move here, Mr. Stark.”

More silence. “I’m sending the suit - it’ll be there in 5. Peter--” he cut himself off, and took a deep, audible, breath. “You’re… you’re okay, though? You’re not--”

“No! I’m okay, Mr. Stark! I just got hurt and I can’t fix it myself. I’m okay, I promise. You can still do your favorite past-time; lecturing me, don’t worry.” he tried to lighten the mood.

An exhale of relief. “Alright, Pete, see you in a bit.”

‘A bit’ turned out to be ten minutes. 

Peter was used to the iron man suit flying him - whether he was swinging with it, or riding on the back - but it was always so awkward when Mr. Stark wasn’t in it. The suit carried him bridal style, and it was quiet, and weird. And Peter didn’t like it. And it happened one too many times for him not to mention how much he Hated It.

It was a short flight though, ten minutes after his phone call with Mr. Stark, Peter was being carried into the lab.

Mr. Stark took one look at him, and frowned, confused. “What’s wrong with you?”

Peter groaned. “I hate this.”

“Ah ah ah, kid, quit whining and explain.”

He looked up at the ceiling. “I broke my legs.”

“...Legs? Plural?” Mr. Stark sounded horrified.

Peter chose to nod without speaking.

“You need a doctor, Peter, I’m not a _doctor_!”

Not liking that, Peter met the man’s eyes. “No, come on, just set them so they’ll heal properly, and that’s it! I’d do it myself bu--”

“ _Peter._ ” Mr. Stark was glaring now. “If you _ever_ utter the words ‘I would do it myself’ when it’s about you being hurt? So help me, you’ll never see the outside world ever again, you’ll be grounded to eternity. You got it?”

Slumping further into the suit carrying him, Peter nodded, mumbling, “I got it.”

“Great. Maybe this is actually the time the words _stick_.” Mr. Stark shook his head. “I’m calling Stephen, because frankly, I will throw up if I look at two broken legs.”

“Ugh, he’s gonna tell me I’m stupid!”

“That would be because you’re _being stupid._ ”

Peter huffed, but otherwise stayed quiet, glaring at the ceiling as Mr. Stark made the call.

\---

He was strangely calm. Well, not _strangely_ ; he’s usually calm in these situations. Nowadays anyway. When he was younger, any time he saw blood, he freaked out, if only a little. He wasn’t necessarily a big tantrum, crying loud, passing out sort of person when freaking out - he was more frozen on the spot, blood rushing in his ears, trembling all over, screaming in his head. Aside from trembling and getting dizzy, there were no physical manifestations of his fear or panic - a doctor warned uncle Ben and aunt May about this once, said _“the test hurts a little, he should’ve shown some sign of pain, keep an eye on him; he doesn’t show when he’s hurt.”_ So it seems the logical step from little physical and mostly cognitive, to no physical and no cognitive.

Well, he didn’t make that jump on his own, if he was completely honest. Because normal people would tell you that he should be _more_ scared now that when he got hurt, nine times out of ten, it was serious and fear-worthy. But, well… Peter had a good reason not to be scared.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. He was about 85% sure he was bleeding to death. Strange that he supposedly has super healing, and it’s still not fast enough. He is bleeding very heavily and from a lot of places, so. 

It wasn’t even a particularly powerful guy he was fighting - Peter had taken him down relatively quickly, too, but. 

The funny thing is that Peter can’t even tell you which part had gotten him so hurt; being whipped with leather-rough whips, thrown through three floors of pure glass, the four gunshot wounds, or the hit to the back of his head. Maybe it’s all four. He didn’t really care, all he knew was he was bleeding out faster than his body could heal.

_“You should really start worrying about my health, Peter, seriously you’re gonna give me a heart attack…”_ Mr. Stark had said. Peter figured he wasn’t really being serious that time, but… well, Peter knows he looks and actually is terrible this time. _Sorry, Mr. Stark._ He’d called him before anything bad happened this time though, so hopefully he won’t get lectured _as much_. 

“Peter! Peter you need to stay awake, Mr. Stark is on his way, but you need to stay awake.”

Oh yeah Karen was here. He couldn’t really focus too much, guess that fuzzy thoughts thing is back - though it doesn’t really count since it’s due to blood loss, not fear. 

Okay, his psychiatrist told him he needed to care more about himself, that _“self-preservation is important, Peter, you need to remember that. Especially since I get Mr. Stark calling me weekly complaining that you’d gotten hurt again. Please.”_ she really tries, but Peter just… knows he doesn’t have to be scared. Yeah, he gets hurt a lot, but it’s in the job description; you can’t fight bad guys -most of whom are superpowered- and not expect to get hurt. And Peter has good reason to be calm about it.

“Peter? Peter, answer me for fuck’s sake!”

That was frantic and scared and made Peter’s heart hurt, so maybe he should open his eyes.

Oh.

Mr. Stark’s here.

“Oh thank god! I’m getting you out of here, kid, please just stay with me!”

God, he sounds awful… Peter might not be scared, but he is definitely guilty. 

“I called this time...” - well, he tried his best not to slur that, but it’s okay, Mr. Stark seems to get it. Because he looks devastated.

“I know, you did good. You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna get you help.” 

Yes, Peter was coughing up blood, but he still smiled at that, “i know, Mr. Stark, you always do.”

Shit, that just made Mr. Stark look even more distressed and terrified. 

_That’s why Peter would never say anything about it. Unless he’s halfway to death, he supposes._

Mr. Stark didn’t give him an answer, he just picked Peter up and flew them out of the building. Police lights and sirens below them. See? Peter didn’t need to be afraid. It was pointless.

“FRIDAY, how bad is it? ….. _Fuck_.”

Peter must’ve passed out after that, because the next thing he remembers is waking up disoriented, lights speeding past above him - or, well, he was speeding past them. He was being pushed to a big room that seemed empty, until nurses and doctors started pulling tables and tools out from somewhere. It really was a very aesthetic room.

“We’re gonna take care of you, Peter, you’re gonna be good as new!” Helen Cho said from somewhere to his right, before he succumbed to -or was dragged into- the dark.

Next time he woke up, it was to a dimly lit room, soft beeping to his left, and uncomfort all over his body. It wasn’t as bad as the last time he’d been awake, so his healing was doing its job, thankfully.

He was at medical, he knew that much. His head hurt like hell, though so it took him a second to recognize that it was Stark Industries medical, not a random hospital. Oh, yeah, Helen Cho was here, too. He hoped she was still around - Peter really liked her, she was smart and cool and he liked asking her gross questions about her job; she’s done some disgusting operations before, it was interesting. 

A sound made him frown for a moment, before slowly turning his head to where it came from - the right side of the bed.

Oh.

How had he not noticed him before now?

Of course he would be here, where else would he be.

Peter felt a little guilty for this, but he relaxed with a smile when he saw him.

He _knew_ Mr. Stark would make sure he was okay.

He also knew Mr. Stark snored. He chuckled before wincing at the pain that caused.

Apparently that small chuckle was all it took for Mr. Stark to spring awake. They stared at each other for a long second, and suddenly Peter wanted to cry. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t like he had been scared, but… maybe he had been a little. He’s not going to ask, but, the truth is, he was in tune enough with his body to know he had been on the brink of death. And, yeah, fear isn’t really a big part of why tears fill his eyes—he was just so overwhelmed all of a sudden. 

All sorts of thoughts were running through his mind: he’d almost died. He’d been in so much pain. Aunt May must be so worried. She’s never going to leave town ever again. God, Peter is just too good at worrying the people he loves. Mr. Stark cares so much. The word Peter had been pretending he wasn’t thinking every second of every day— _dad_. 

“How are you feeling?”

Well, regardless of anything else, Peter was _not_ going to cry in front of his father figure right now. Not when Mr. Stark looked ready to cry himself. He also looked years older. Even though Peter was sure he couldn’t have been asleep longer than a couple of days.

“Okay. A little stiff and achy, but okay.” he quickly scanned the man in front of him, “you?”

“ _Kid.”_ Mr. Stark sounded horrible - anguished and exhausted.

“I’m sor--”

A hand stopped him. “Please don’t apologize right now, kid, not when you almost-- I’m not great, Pete. I don’t know if I can keep seeing you hurt.”

Yup, there’s the famous Peter Parker guilt. “I did call before anything happened this time, though.”

For some reason, that made Mr. Stark flinch. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I got there as fast as I could…” _what?_ “Pete, I was there fifteen minutes after you called… but it wasn’t fast enough. I’m so sorry.” 

_What the fuck._

“Why are you apologizing?! That _man_ hurt me, not you!”

Mr. Stark just shook his head, he definitely looked like he wasn’t going to change his self-destructive guilty mind. “But if I’d been there faster, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“What the--? With that logic, I’m also at fault for not waiting for you to get there!” Peter was shocked, though he figured he shouldn’t be. “And aunt May! She’s also at fault for letting me be spider-man! And Happy that one time he didn't answer the phone. And Ned for telling me I should keep being spider-man! And even Ms Potts! She made excuses with the principle last time I missed school because of the villain of the week.” Peter was waving his hands too much, it seems, because Mr. Stark grabbed hold of them and gently rested them on Peter’s lap - his hands still around them. “Hell even the architect of that building is the bad guy here, Mr. Stark! If he hadn’t put so much glass around, I wouldn’t have been cut!” he huffed. “You’re a genius, Mr. Stark, but your logic is stupid.”

It was quiet for a moment. Before: “Maybe I am taking on too much of the blame…”

Peter made sure his eyes were wide, and his voice was loud and fake-surprised, “oh my god! Anthony Edward Stark admitting he’s _not_ the bad guy? Am I actually dead?”

“Shut up, don’t even joke about that.” 

“Too early?”

“It’ll never not be too early, kid.”

Seems like the joke was over. “I knew you were gonna come, Mr. Stark. A minute or fifteen minutes or fifteen hours late - you were gonna come.”

Mr. Stark looked sad for a millisecond, before he leaned up to brush a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “I always will.”

With that, Peter smiled, and let himself fall back to the pillows, “I love you, Mr. Stark.”

“Love you, too, kid. Get some rest, you look tired.”

\---

Here’s the thing. Peter was never worried or scared when he got hurt. In fact, lately, he’s probably calmest when he’s hurt - well, maybe not _calmest_ , but it’s up there. Mr. Stark almost has a heart attack every time Peter shows up with a new battle wound; a bullet, a piece of glass in his side, dislocated shoulders, sprained ankles, broken ribs… the list goes on, but even if he has something as small and inconsequential as a papercut, Tony Stark would worry and lecture and _worry_. But, the thing is, what Peter won’t say aloud for many reasons - for one, Mr. Stark would take it personally and feel guilty every time Peter got hurt, for another, Peter… still isn’t fully comfortable saying things like this publicly - is that… he doesn’t panic when he’s hurt because he knows Mr. Stark will always fix him up. It’s childish and naive and not very smart to think this way, but it’s true - it’s been true since the day Peter walked into his apartment and found aunt May sitting on the couch with Tony Stark, and Peter can’t imagine a time when it’ll stop being true.

  
  



End file.
